


Postscript

by Carrogath



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24370525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carrogath/pseuds/Carrogath
Summary: The message from Edelgard shouldn't be a surprise, but then, Ingrid thinks, neither should anything else.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 26
Kudos: 128





	Postscript

_Meet me in the palace at nightfall. Bring nothing and no one but yourself._

_\- E.H._

* * *

Ingrid didn’t know how long it took her to decode the message, only that it was longer than she would have liked. Three months after the war, she should have been used to such things by now, she thought—encoding messages, decoding messages, learning to read the unwritten signs. As a general in the Adrestian army, as one of members of the Emperor’s inner circle, and especially as a trusted confidante and loyal follower of Her Majesty, she should have been quicker to respond to such a summons.

She laced on her boots, and, after feeling that the dagger she had hidden in her right calf was secured in place, exited the barracks in the northernmost reaches of the capital and headed out onto the rain-slicked streets of Enbarr. She left with nothing but herself, as promised.

Enbarr took on a different character at night. During the day, when it was sunny, its red-tiled roofs and white stone exteriors could have blinded, but in the evenings, after the sunset had finished painting everything in its liquid crimsons and golds, the colors were dull, muted. Mottled purples and blues lined the streets now, buildings plastered together all reaching headily toward the sky, and when she looked up, she could already see the stars twinkling behind the last few snatches of cloud, the moon winking in and out of sight. Moisture collected on her neck and against her leathers, settled in the space between her skin and her clothes. She had never gotten used to the southern heat, and was afraid she never would.

She picked up the pace. The palace was due south, square in the center of the city, though its high walls ensured that even when surrounded, intruders would have a hard time finding their way in. She passed a round, domed building home to the Sacred Flame Church—not a very popular destination nowadays, given recent events—and closed storefronts and apartments with their windows all lit up. All the way south past the palace was the theater district, and Decarabia Square, named for some pre-Seiros mythological figure the story of which Ingrid had yet to learn. Southwest of the palace was the garment district, and north of that, where Ingrid was currently, was mostly residential.

She took a familiar shortcut through an alleyway and past a small fountain, where she took a couple by surprise, and wound her way down a set of stone stairs and back onto cobblestone streets. Thirty more meters would take her to the thoroughfare, the end of which would lead her to the palace gates.

Ingrid took another way, as instructed by Her Majesty several years ago, she was to never pass through the main entrance. She went down another set of steps and walked along the canal instead, under a bridge and eventually underground, until she hit a door and knocked.

She hummed the pattern to herself: 2-3-2-3-1-3-2. When she was asked for the password, she gave it. She announced herself by name and title: General Ingrid Galatea, of the 1st Flying Division of the Imperial Armed Forces. She showed the guard her Black Eagle pendant through the grate in the door. He eyed her suspiciously.

Ingrid groaned, and then cleared her throat and leaned in, whispering in his ear, “She named it Mr. Bear. Don’t tell anyone this, but she still thinks it’s a good name.”

The guard saluted, and opened the door and let her in. Ingrid passed rows of torches as she made her way deeper into the palace. Eventually, she thought, she would have to see her, and felt her heart stutter unexpectedly at the notion. Ridiculous, she told herself, even as she tried and failed to smother it. She passed ominous-looking wooden doors on her way to another set of stone steps, and another guard saluted her as she ascended them.

The inside of the palace was warmly lit. This door led out to a narrow hallway—Ingrid wasn’t familiar enough with the palace to properly orient herself. She looked around for an indication of where she should be headed, and caught a maid on her way out of one of the other rooms.

“Excuse me.” She held out her hand.

The maid, an older woman in red-and-yellow palace livery with gray streaks in her hair, looked startled.

“My name is General Galatea. Would you happen to know where… where one such as I should be going this time of night?”

The maid looked her up and down, ostensibly in disbelief. Then she looked up at the ceiling and rolled her eyes. “That Edelgard von Hresvelg… Must be getting sloppy, that one…” she muttered.

Ingrid held her tongue. It was not her place to tell a palace maid what to think.

“All the way down the hall and to the staircase to your left,” she said finally, without making eye contact. “Wait at the bottom, and if there is no one there to meet you in ten minutes, then leave at once.”

Ingrid nodded, and started down the hall. The floor was stone under her feet, lined with red carpet down the middle, and doors in the walls on either side. The walls were white and mostly unadorned—she passed a covered painting halfway to the end of the hall and immediately assumed it must be religious—and exited out the doorway to a wider hallway and a set of spiral stairs to her left. She looked around: there were more guards, more rooms, big glass windows peering out into the courtyard straight ahead. None of the guards acknowledged her, and she was growing impatient.

She stood awkwardly by the staircase, trying not to stare at the guard. After the first few minutes or so, she wondered if she should start counting.

The maid had called her Edelgard so readily—disrespectfully, even. Edelgard had said her rule would be different, and it was, but Ingrid still felt uneasy with some of the changes. Ingrid’s troops had been disciplined and professional, and Hubert demanded uncompromising loyalty of Her Majesty’s generals, but Ingrid knew that Edelgard would do nothing to punish the maid who spoke her name with naked impertinence, even if she reported the incident. Edelgard respected talent and character, not rank and title. She might have even rewarded such a person for speaking the bare-faced truth, should it ever come to that.

Ingrid, on the other hand, was as loyal as they came.

Loyal, at least, as a defector from her home country could ever be. She wondered if Edelgard liked that—either that she was loyal to a fault, or that she had sworn off her allegiance to her homeland to join her cause. She wondered if Edelgard believed she might defect again, should a better cause ever come along. She wondered if Edelgard might appreciate that, too, for remaining truer to her values than to her liege.

The air suddenly felt too hot. Ingrid swallowed, her pulse picking up again.

Why was she getting so excited over this?

The sound of footsteps padding down the stairs tore her from her thoughts. She looked up to see Edelgard, monstrously underdressed in some formless, velvety robe-looking thing, her hair tied up in a bun with a few loose strands draped over her chest. She looked as though she were about to retire to her personal chambers, though Ingrid knew her better than that. There was a poison-tipped dagger somewhere on Her Majesty’s person. She might have even kept it there when she slept.

“Ingrid,” she said, holding out her hand. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

“N-not at all,” she stuttered, taking the hand before she could think too closely on her tone and choice of address. “It’s a pleasure—”

“Come on.” She tugged her arm, and Ingrid followed her back up the stairs, into a hallway and up yet another set of stairs, until she was finally led into a room with a smartly burning fireplace, handed an empty glass, and prompted to sit down in an overstuffed armchair so soft and so huge that it looked as though it might devour her if she dared approach it.

Ingrid swallowed and sat. The room was narrow and lined with wooden engravings, as inside the hull of a ship; shelves were set into the walls, and they were filled with leather-bound books and odd trinkets and shiny things that Ingrid couldn’t make out in the dim light. Edelgard seated herself on the other end of a small table next to Ingrid’s chair, and Ingrid noticed a wooden bucket on the table with a bottle of wine and ice in it.

Everything fell into place so fast that it looped back around to being completely incomprehensible.

“Your Majesty—”

Edelgard uncorked the bottle of wine, ignoring her. “Ingrid,” she said, and held her hand out, motioning for Ingrid to give her the glass in her hand.

She obliged, watching as red wine poured out from the bottle and filled the empty bowl. Then Edelgard handed the glass back to her.

“I suppose you don’t drink chilled wine in Faerghus very often,” she said, as an afterthought.

“Oh,” said Ingrid, despairingly, “I haven’t done that in years.” She held the rim to her nose. Even cooled, it smelled fruity and heavy and pungent with inebriate promise. When she took a sip, she felt it all the way down her throat and behind her eyes. It tasted delicious. Goddess, it tasted _sinful_.

“I only left it in the ice for a few minutes. It’s better this way on a warm night, no?” Edelgard spoke casually, drank casually, watched her with probing eyes. “I’ve always wanted to try the ice wines from Gautier. I’ve heard they’re especially sweet…”

“Your Majesty,” Ingrid said again, putting her wine down on the table.

“Now that the war is over… Hmm, well, I suppose it wouldn’t do to think about something as frivolous as that right now.” Edelgard ignored her once more, looking away from her, and Ingrid could feel the steady thrum of shock and anger rising in her throat. “I should make a list of all the things I plan to do once I retire.”

Ingrid clenched her teeth.

“That’ll be a while from now, though…”

She clutched the polished wood of her armrest, forcing herself to remain seated.

“Oh, but that just gives me more time to decide.”

“Your Majesty,” Ingrid said again, without waiting for Edelgard to respond, “why was I summoned here?”

Edelgard looked at her, then, and said nothing. Her gaze was undauntedly earnest—unguarded in a way, Ingrid thought, she had only seen once before.

* * *

1183\. She remembered precious little of that year, only that just as they thought they had left the worst behind them, they discovered that even worse was yet to come. Last year’s victories had almost seemed an accident—they’d seized parts of Charon and the smaller western Faerghan territories, only to have them ripped from the Empire’s grasp again in less than two months, starting in the spring. By the summer, they were dangerously close to losing ground in their own country. Rhea had finally chosen to deploy those ancient magical automatons of yore, golems, or titans, or whatever they were, and Ingrid had seen their terrible lances of light, and the destruction wrought by Edelgard’s mysterious underground allies in return. The fighting had ground to an unsteady halt during the Verdant Rain Moon, and by the start of the Horsebow Moon they were at a definitive stalemate.

Ingrid was reporting the results of their latest scouting mission over the Oghmas in Edelgard’s office—the consultation room next to Rhea’s old audience chamber in the main building of Garreg Mach Monastery—when she realized Edelgard wasn’t listening to her.

Ingrid swallowed in discomfort. The consultation room was open, without a door, and although the audience chamber was currently empty, sound echoed so readily off of the walls and ceiling here that she thought she could hear her own heartbeat in the dreadful silence.

“Your Majesty.”

Edelgard’s face was pinched, unchanging. She didn’t recognize the look, and she didn’t like it.

“Your Majesty, shall I call a—”

“No.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Stay here.”

Ingrid kept her hands behind her back, and her head held high. But her back was beginning to ache and her shoulders began to sag, and every time she pushed them up again she felt a weakness in her upper arms.

Edelgard placed her hands on the desk and pushed herself upright. She looked exhausted even doing that.

“Shall I continue, then?”

“No.”

Ingrid blinked.

Edelgard, who hadn’t been wearing her crown at the time, massaged her temples. “Damn that Rhea…” she muttered under her breath, “damn those bastards, and damn the Church.” When she looked up at Ingrid again, there was an unsettling sort of wildness in her eyes, something alien and painfully familiar all at once.

“What were you going to say?”

“That the search turned up—”

“No, no, never mind that,” she said, waving her arm dismissively. “I…” She glanced out the entryway. “Is there anyone in the audience chamber?”

“No, Your Majesty,” Ingrid reported.

“Then let’s go out.”

They walked into the empty audience chamber, with its tall windows and stone pillars and large, open space. Edelgard paced the room like a caged animal.

“If I were you,” said Edelgard, “I would be regretting my decision to leave the Kingdom right now.” Edelgard glared at her, her eyes a furious violet. “Do you?”

“No,” said Ingrid, “not at all.”

“Why not?” Edelgard took a daring step forward. “We’re losing, aren’t we? Why do you stay?”

“I swore an oath.”

“You did not,” she replied sharply. “You swore an oath to yourself. You did no such thing in my presence.”

Ingrid bit the inside of her lip. “I have nothing left in the Kingdom.” Her father would never take her back, nor would Dimitri. She’d return a traitor and a criminal. They would lock her up and throw away the key. It was completely pointless to even think of going back, so she didn’t.

Edelgard scoffed. “It stands to reason that you wouldn’t, Rhea being who she is.” She wondered if Edelgard had heard her at all. Edelgard ran a hand through her hair. “I should release you from service.”

“Wh… What?” Ingrid gasped, starting in place. “Why?”

“Because I have failed you.”

And there it was, the look: simultaneously lucid and crazed, euphoric and despairing. It was fitting on her in a way it shouldn’t have been—the look of a person who had lived too much in too little time, who had tried to process it all long before she was done experiencing it.

“You of all people should understand the duties a leader has to his men. Perhaps there’s another way. Perhaps war isn’t the only option. Perhaps…” She looked down, shaking her head from side to side, and then turned to face her again. “Ingrid, you are the only one who speaks of duty and obligation despite running away from all of those things.” She laughed. “To whom, or to what, are those things, really? Your loyalty is ridiculous. Your subservience,” she hissed, leaning in until their faces were nearly touching, “is ridiculous. You follow not because you believe in values like faith or fealty or chivalry or justice, but because without your willingness to serve you are nothing.”

Ingrid took a step back, and felt her back brush the stone wall.

“I am ashamed to know you.” Edelgard swept away, cape billowing behind her. “You fool, you pitiable wretch; I would beggar you and strip you of all that you owned in front of everyone and you would thank me for it. Wouldn’t you?”

Ingrid was silent.

Edelgard turned around and stared imperiously at her. “Well? Wouldn’t you?”

She stared into the floor. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She was upset—no, even more than that, she was angry that Edelgard was taking advantage of their positions to insult her, knowing that Ingrid would tell her nothing in response, because she was loyal.

Because she was loyal. She had seen Hubert disagree with her before, but Ingrid would not say a word, because she was loyal.

“Why won’t you admit it? Admit that I’m a failure. Admit that I was wrong and that I never should have—”

“Stop.” Ingrid was louder than she had thought; her voice echoed off the walls and filled the room with that one, unmistakable word. Her next words were much quieter. “I would not be grateful to be humiliated and made an example of in front of all your other soldiers.” Her hands were shaking.

“Why?” Her tone was curt, unimpressed.

Her jaw trembled. Her legs turned to jelly; they felt as if they might give underneath her at any moment. “Because I have dignity, you shameless deviant.” She stamped the stone floor with her boot, hard enough to feel it in her knees, and straightened up. “I don’t understand, but if this is how you must relieve yourself, then I will not tolerate being made the object of your abuse. Find someone else.” She sucked in a breath, and exhaled sharply through her nose. Somewhere, deep down, she thought that this was the response Edelgard wanted from her, and she felt a prick of shame for being excited by the idea.

Edelgard gave her that look again, the one that said she had seen too much and grasped too little, and stepped away. She said nothing. She closed her eyes, and took in deep, slow breaths, until her breathing was even.

“Hubert has orders to kill me, you know,” she said, looking up. “If he ever deems it necessary to further our cause.”

Ingrid willed herself to stay standing. “Why are you telling me this?”

“That’s the price of loyalty,” Edelgard said. “Would you do the same?”

“No.” She didn’t know why she said it—only that she did.

“Then you are a liar, and disloyal.”

“Loyal to my beliefs,” Ingrid said. Her chest was so tight it felt as though it might burst. “Loyal to the values you purport to champion. But to you—” her heart hammered— “no—” she couldn’t stop herself— “no, because you are wrong.”

“Why do you say that?” Edelgard asked. Her eyes were wide, curious. Hungry.

Ingrid knew what she wanted to tell her then, but she didn’t.

She didn’t remember what she had said to her instead, only that Edelgard had walked away from the conversation disappointed, and they never spoke of it again.

* * *

Until now, apparently.

“I… wanted to know your plans,” Edelgard said coyly, affected in a way that screamed to Ingrid that she wouldn’t enjoy wherever this conversation was going to go next. Edelgard hated conventions, bent and twisted them until they broke, warped them until they were unrecognizable. She was unfailingly fascinated by the new and unfamiliar, by the exotic and the unknown. She spoke at length about science and mathematics, about ethics and philosophy, about foreign cultures and customs and new modes of dress, at once beautiful and terrifying to behold. Although dignified and disciplined in public, she was irreverent and excitable in private. She was a bit mad. Ingrid knew this, because Edelgard trusted her.

Ingrid knew this because she loved her.

“None,” Ingrid replied. “Only those which you deem fit to provide me.”

Edelgard rolled her eyes. “Your actual plans, Ingrid.”

“I want to return to Galatea.”

“Then it shall be done.”

She bit her lip, and then picked up the glass and gulped down more than she likely should have. “Your Majesty,” she said, and then stopped herself. “Your Majesty, whatever you wish of me, I am willing to consider. But there are some things I cannot—”

“Do?” Edelgard raised her brows, peering at her from over the side of her armchair.

“I,” she nearly bit her tongue, “I can’t. I can’t accept this. I can’t accept your kindness.” She stood up.

“Ingrid.” Edelgard stood up after her, a warning in her tone.

She headed for the door, and realized it was locked, and in her distraction couldn’t understand how to open it. “I have already sacrificed everything that I am in your name. Allow me,” she said, twisting the handle in frustration, “this one small selfishness—”

Edelgard grasped her wrist, and tugged her hand away. Ingrid allowed her to do it and felt stupid for doing so. “The only one being small here is you, Ingrid,” she hissed. “Isn’t this the future that you fought for?”

“It is,” she ripped Edelgard’s hand away, “it is, but this… this is different! This…” she massaged her wrist, though Edelgard’s grip was in fact too lax to have seriously hurt her, “this goes beyond the scope of what you promised. It’s not right!”

“Not right!” Edelgard laughed. “Ingrid, I wanted to create this world precisely for the sake of people like you. Your blood, your heritage, your Crest, your family—none of that matters anymore.” She grasped Ingrid’s hand. “I know how you feel about me. So why do you still resist?”

“Edelgard, I can’t.” She pressed herself against the door, in lieu of being able to escape. She spotted a window, and in a moment of sheer delirium wondered if she might be able to jump out of it.

“Why?” she asked. “To fulfill your stupid fantasies of serving a liege lord? You are so fucking insistent on playing the role of a loyal vassal, and yet you fought to destroy the entire system of vassalage and monarchy. There are no more knights. There are no more kings and queens. There are ministers and officials now and so help me, goddess, Ingrid, I have wanted you for as long as you have pledged your life to me.” Her chest heaved. “I know you aren’t stupid. I know you noticed I was treating you differently; goddess, Ingrid, you don’t understand what you’ve done to me.”

Ingrid slipped her hand out of Edelgard’s grasp. Blood thundered in her ears. “I… but we’re not equal.”

“You’re the only one who thinks that, you jackass.”

What would her father think? No, what would Galatea think? She thought of their crops failing year after year, of her father sacrificing supper after supper for her sake. Everyone had treated her differently. What the fuck made her so special? “Dammit, Edelgard…” And she had betrayed his trust and squandered his endless sacrifices for the sake of what? To replace one failed system with nothing but the promise of another?

She choked up.

“Ingrid.”

She wanted to scream.

She could have served Dimitri. He would have offered to knight her—she was certain of it. They had been childhood friends, but she had thrown that away too. It was meaningless to her now. He had lost, and now he was dead, and the Emperor of Adrestia was begging her not to leave again.

“Edelgard, I…” She staggered over and reached for the wine again. She’d be drunk soon, and maybe then she’d get to touch her like she’d always wanted. She glanced into the bottom of the glass. There was still a fair bit left.

She wanted to undress her and run her hands over her skin.

She wanted to lose herself in her touch and tangle her fingers in her hair. Goddess, she had touched herself to the thought of it; this should have been easier than it was. She was standing on the edge of a precipitous drop and if she fell there would be no coming back from it.

The war was over, even. She didn’t even have the excuse of having to fight in that.

She left the glass on the table, and turned to her. “Edelgard, I can’t be your knight if we do this.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

She fell to her knees. “But I do.” Tears dripped from her eyes. “I…” How to explain it? “You don’t understand how happy it made me to have someone to serve.”

“And it’s stupid.” Edelgard dropped to her knees, making herself smaller than Ingrid again. “Ingrid, it’s stupid. You are more than who you serve. I know this because I see you and you’re bright and you’re diligent and responsible and you’re—wildly impulsive and irrational sometimes, and really quite emotionally dense, but not even Hubert is as bewilderingly obsequious as you. He and I share a dream and a cause, but nothing more than that.”

Wrong, Ingrid thought, but she was too tired to argue back. Hubert was different because he had served her from birth. It was his choice to stay in his position, but never his choice to serve. He had probably never even thought of a future without Edelgard in it, and probably never wanted to. He believed her and he trusted her, but more than that, she was his whole _world_. Even if she passed on, he would follow her posthumous orders to the letter. Even if she passed on, she would still be alive to him. She was all he knew, and he was content with that. He didn’t need anything else to be happy.

Ingrid was the same.

She opened her mouth. She was going to tell Edelgard that. She was going to tell her that she needed her to stay unattainable, or else her image of her would be destroyed. She was going to tell Edelgard that if she couldn’t serve her, then she couldn’t love her anymore. This had been her dream. This had been her dream, and Edelgard was ruining it. She wanted to be a knight, and she wanted to be chivalrous, and she wanted to be a champion of truth and virtue and dignity and justice, and she wanted to feel secure in knowing that she was serving the right person and upholding the right values, and it was going to be clean and pure and wholesome and she wasn’t going to agonize over it or suffer at all, even though she knew what had happened to Glenn, even though she knew what had happened to Cassandra, even though she knew what happened when it all went wrong.

She knew what she was going to say, but she didn’t.

Instead, she said, “Edelgard, I don’t love you because I want to serve you. I love you because you’re completely fucking mad,” and kissed her until she wasn’t thinking about anything anymore.

* * *

She awoke to the sound of Edelgard’s voice.

“…Ingrid. I left you breakfast on the table. I have to go, I…”

It was still dark outside.

“What time is it?”

“Four.”

“Sweet baby Seiros…” Ingrid rubbed her eyes. The room was unfamiliar, but she realized she was lying in bed, and also that she was naked. Edelgard was dressed in a suit of some sort. She couldn’t make out the details in this light. She felt sore in strange places, and when she lifted up the blankets and looked down at her chest, even in the darkness, she could see marks.

Her face flushed.

“You do remember what happened last night—”

“Of course I do, you idiot,” she said hotly. How could she forget?

Edelgard looked worried. “I just… I don’t know. It didn’t quite seem real.”

Ingrid threw off the covers, exposing her breasts. “Proof.”

“All right,” she said, blushing, “all right. I… I…”

“You didn’t think this through. Did you?” She was treating Edelgard like Sylvain now, but damn it if she didn’t deserve it sometimes.

“I wouldn’t get anything done if I thought things more than I did them.”

“Then I hope you’re happy,” she muttered, covering herself back up.

“I am very happy,” Edelgard said, so earnestly Ingrid could feel her face heat up again. “I… I want you to go back to Galatea. If it pleases you. I want you to do whatever you desire. I love you. I don’t want you to be constrained by… by these antiquated ideas about who should be allowed to rule and who should have to serve and who deserves to have what and how much and when.” She felt for Ingrid’s hand under the blanket, and grabbed it again. “I know… you have a thing about chivalry and rules and justice, and if it’s in your heart to treat me as your Emperor, and not as—not as this, not as whatever we are right now, then I understand. I might be mad, but I have my duties as well. And if you are unwilling to compromise your ideals to be with me, then you should never feel as though you must. Power without limitations is chaos, and…” She shook her head. “I don’t know where I was going with that. Just…” She kissed Ingrid’s fingers with a reverence normally reserved, Ingrid thought, for monarchs. “We don’t have to keep doing this if you don’t want it.”

Ingrid reached over and kissed her on the mouth, letting it linger for a moment before pulling away. She smiled, and intertwined their fingers. “I don’t want to treat you like you’re my Emperor. I want to treat you like you’re you.”

“O-oh.” Her mouth quivered.

“Do you recall who that is, Edelgard?”

She grinned. “I might need some help remembering.”

Ingrid pulled her in again, and this time, she made it last. Edelgard sighed as she pulled away.

“Always happy to be of service.”

Edelgard excused herself and left, and Ingrid dressed before sitting down to eat breakfast at the small table in the guest bedroom, she supposed it was. There was a note and an envelope slipped under the platter. She unfolded the note and began to read. Then she laughed.

“Goddess damn it.”

It was coded.

* * *

_Dear Ingrid,_

_Please find enclosed a draft copy of the new Imperial charter to Galatea. I have faith you will do great things with it._

_No, I know you will do great things. After all, you’re mine now, aren’t you?_

_\- E.H._

_P.S. I love you._

_P.P.S. Mr. Bear is, in fact, a highly appropriate name for a stuffed animal made to resemble a bear._

_P.P.P.S. I know I was wrong about Hubert, but damn it, I couldn’t live with myself knowing that you might be the same. Please continue to be the one to defy me. Please continue to be the one to drive me mad._ _And thank you._

_P.P.P.P.S. It’s not Edelgard. It’s El._


End file.
